


Closer

by myriddin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7930504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for valar_morekinks. Prompt:  Sansa finds it arousing when Jon recites poetry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Poetry: come a little closer- why be afraid by e.e. cummings and Body of a Women by Pablo Neruda.

“Come a little further, why be afraid…”

 

His voice wrapped around her, sending shivers rolling through her as the warm, smooth tones washed over her. She took his offered hand and he slowly brushed his fingers from her wrist to her fingertips, back and forth, lingering on the lines of her palm. The delicate touch only increased her shivers.

 

“Here’s the earliest star, have you a wish?” he husked and it was all Sansa could think in reply was a blaring mental mantra of _closer, closer_. Some higher power must have granted him the ability to hear as he pressed his free hand to the small of her back, coaxing her closer.

 

“Touch me, before we perish.” A clever hand slid beneath the hem of her shirt and ran up the length of her spine. “Believe that not anything which has ever been invented can spoil this or this instant.” Her body curved into his, leaning close. A perfect fit. He traced a finger down to cheek, tipping up her chin. “Kiss me a little, the air darkens and is alive.” His mouth closed over hers.

 

From first contact, she melted into him with a soft moan, burying her hands in his hair  and pressing against him even as he pressed her back against the nearest wall. He deepened the kiss to taste everything she had to offer him, running his hands feverishly down her back, cupping the back of her thighs to urge her even closer.

 

She rocked into him, her lips parting with a gasp of pleasure as his mouth left her to trail down her jaw and neck in hot, open-mouthed kisses. “O’ live with me in the fewness of these colors,” he pushed aside her collar to lightly suck at her racing pulse. “Alone who slightly always are beyond the reach of death.”

 

His fingers stroked her sides, from her stomach to just beneath her breasts. He flicked his tongue out against her skin, smiling at the throaty moan that escaped her.

 

“Jon…” she found herself whining as his voice died away, the poem finished.

 

Jon came to her rescue. “Body of a woman,” he murmured, lowering his head to mouth at her breast, his lips wrapping around a pebbled nipple through the thin cotton of her blouse. “White hills, white thighs,” he rucked her skirt up to her waist, groaning when he discovered she wasn’t wearing underwear. “You look like a world lying in surrender.” He slid two fingers firmly inside her.

 

Sansa keened, clinging tight as he thrust and recited breathily into her ear. Surrender indeed.

 

 

 


End file.
